


Grandmama

by drelfina



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Crack, M/M, One-Shot, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unethical Behaviour, bad James Bad, brat!Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drelfina/pseuds/drelfina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had all started with a class in Art History -it was just an elective,  something to fill up the blank spaces in his time table because Quillan was so easily bored, and it was something diferent, and satisfy his grandmother with his complete lack of classics.</p><p>In which Q (Quillan) is M's grandson, and he has a passionate affair with a lecturer at Uni.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grandmama

**Author's Note:**

> It was a cracky idea, and it is a cracky fic. Possibly OOC, though Q has no real characterisation in the film so it fits? :D 
> 
> What if M was Q's grandmother? 
> 
> How hilarious would it be??

It was lovely.

Quillan woke up, stretching, to realise that the warmth on his head was Professor Bond- "Call me James"- 's hand on his hair, patting him like a cat.

He grinned sleepily at him, and rolled out of bed.

"Morning," he said, and oh that was a GOOD feeling. He'd finally graduated, and while he'd gotten a bit tipsy, the Professor had finally let him onto his lap, andthen had driven him home.

Mmmhmm.

It had all started with a class in Art History -it was just an elective, something to fill up the blank spaces in his time table because Quillan was so easily bored, and it was something diferent, and satisfy his grandmother with his complete lack of classics.

It turned out that the Professor must have been some sort of gym bunny, but in a _very_ hot way, because he filled out those crisp suits _wonderfully_. He had a lovely speaking voice, a gorgeous arse, and intense, brilliant blue eyes.

Quillan had more or less planned to sleep his way through the class, but it had ended up with him asking questions, doing the readings, and ending up in the professor's office more often than not.

It wasn't completely _professional_ or remotely ethical, but the way Prof Bond's eyes would track his hand motions as he talked, would seek him out during class and tutorials... well. 

It was hard not to feel flattered. And if he ended up kissing the professor once or a dozen times... well, it's not a big deal was it? 

_"I like beautiful things."_ the professor had said, and Quillan had managed not to just pop an instant boner but it was by sheer will.

Some of those office visits were very late in the afternoon, and sometimes....well all their clothes were on and there was almost no skin to skin contact. 

_"When you graduate_ " hed said.

Well

Now Quillan had graduated, and Professor James Bond had made good on his promise, and Quillan was now the proud owner of a brilliant set of hickeys down his back and chest. 

"Come back here," James said, his voice a really incredibly sexy, low throaty smokey thing, like whiskey. Scotch? Mmm. 

"Breakfast," Quillan said, laughing. "I'll make bacon and eggs and toast, how does that sound, Professor?" 

"Horrible," James said, sitting up and that sheet slid down his waist, and Quillan had to stand there and try not to devour him with his eyes. "Come back here, whippet, this is getting cold." 

"And I'm hungry," Quillan said,sticking out his tongue. "i'm a growing boy."

He had only had time to put on an apron and then bring out the skillet before James was there, spooning him from behind. 

Quillan laughed, turned around and caught James' mouth with his, which was the only reason why he saw that movement of an intruder in his hallway.

James felt him still; Quillan didn't even have time to cry out,because James was suddenly whipping around, grabbing the saucepan fromQuillan's hands and flinging it at the man.It hit his gun - _Gun!_ \- and then James was grabbing the knives from the counter and. 

Quillan didn't really remember that very well. 

All he could remember was shouts, scuffles, the dull slick sound of somewhat dull kitchen knives sinking into flesh and _tearing_ , and Quillan came back to himself from under the table, only vaguely aware that the sounds had stopped, and...

And James was on the phone.

"Yes ma'am. Neutralised the threat. He's safe."

The speaker of the phone was fairly loud - Quillan could hear the other person on the line, and her voice was rather familiar. 

Awfully familiar.

"Grandmama?" Quillan said.

The voice paused. 

"Pass me to him," she said, on the phone, and James handed it over. 

Quillan had to curl the fingers from both hands on the phone, his hands were shaking so hard. "Grandmama, what is the meaning of _this_?!"

"Quillan," M said, "there was a threat to your safety. You refused a body guard." 

"Well of course I would! They make me more conspicuous! You might as well put a sign saying 'stab here'! And now I have a dead man in my hallway!" 

"Quillan. Be reasonable." 

"I am!" Quillan shouted,and when James touched his shoulder, Quillan reacted, grabbing his fingers and twisting back, spinning around and almost forcing the man to the ground - taken by surprise,James went to his knees. 

"And you sent a - you sent an agent!"

"Ow,"James said, somewhat flatly.

"You're not really a professor are you?" 

"Quillan," his grandmother said, but Quillan ignored her. 

"You're an agent, just doing your duty," Quillan said, not letting go of his hand. James looked at his wrist, though it was a hold that he could break now that both of them were standing still. 

"Yes," he said.

"Is your name even - What's your _real_ name?" Those eyes. All blue and gorgeous and passionate, they were flat now. Blank, almost expressionless. 

Empty. 

Quillan felt his chest ache. 

IT might not have lasted, Quillan knew that. He was at the age when hormones ran rampant. But he thought it had been real. He thought it had been genuine. 

And instead here was yet another bloody agent, sent by his grandmother to befriend him, watch him, and now, apparently screw him. 

"It is James Bond," James said. "Agent 007." 

"I should be flattered, Grandmama," Quillan said. "A double-oh. For me. I guess they really do live up to the hype,they do anything you tell them to, including fuck your grandson on your say so."

" _Quillan_ ," his grandmother snapped. "Don't be melodramatic. I had to resort to such matters when you refused to take my advice -" 

Quillan thumbed the phone off, and made to throw the phone at James's face. 

James moved, suddenly, before Quillan could manage that, catching his wrists and holding him tight. 

"There was a potential threat against M," he said, into Quillan's ear. 

Just moments ago, this would have been hot, intimate, have Quillan melting against him. Now.. 

"You were at risk as her only surviving family member." 

"And now the threat is neutralised," Quillan said, and then stomped down hard on Bond's instep. 

James didn't yelp, but his hold loosened, enough for Quillan to duck out and slam his elbow into Bond's midsection and gain enough of a distance so he could throw the damn phone at Bond's face. "Get out! Get out of here!" 

"No," James said. 

Quillan glared at him, and then spun on his heel, to head up to his room. Paused at the sight of the dead.. man. 

"... I'll take care of the man first." James said .

While James dealt with that, Quillan took the chance to pack a quick bag, grab his pass port and get the hell out of the city.

 

* * *

 

Quillan slouched at a cafe, stabbing at a buttered croissant till the flakes littered the plate and table. 

The surge of righteous anger had sustained him to France, and petered out before he could head on to Austria. He had still managed to disable CCTV and he'd paid for his ticket by cash, and he had had his own IDs, not the ones that had been made for him by M, so he was probably a half a day or so ahead of James Bloody Bond.

Maybe the agent would be just a bit shame-faced to face him. The pleasant ache of last night had faded into just discomfort, to be ignored right now, as Quillan stabbed the croissant into inedible flakes. 

The coffee was horrid, Quillan thought, staring at it, and upended all the sugar into it. It was horrid, the cafe was horrible, the table was horrible, everything in Paris was horrible except the pastry. 

Which he had just mashed into bits. 

"I hate France," Quillan said. 

"They're rather bad at tea," James said, agreeably, sliding into the chair opposite him.

Quillan jerked up, staring at him, and then tried to kick at him. 

James caught his foot between his knees. "Quillan, will you listen?" 

"Do I have to scream?" Quillan snapped. "I can. I can speak bloody perfect French, and I'll say you're a damn pedophile, I know how to scream it in French, German and fucking Italian." 

James cocked his head. "You do? That's. A rather unique sort of language lessons, I never got that." 

Quillan choked a laugh. "You - what did you think my childhood was like? I was seven, before I realised that none of my friends actually wanted to be friends with me. They were all perfectly chosen , pre-selected to like what I liked, to play what I wanted to play. All my baby-sitters were low-ranking MI6 agents. By the time I was ten, I had learned who was in shit with Grandmama, because they got stuck with literal baby-sitting duty, and teaching me self-defense. They all had to put up with my taking their phones and computers apart, and none of them dared to tell me no because M was their _boss_. I only went to school at fourteen, and wasn't even allowed to go to boarding school, i was chauffeured everywhere in bullet proof glass." 

It all sounded very 'poor little rich boy'. 

James probably didn't give a shit. 

"My first real friends I met on the fucking internet. He was Ugandan. Can you imagine? All the people here, surrounded by them 24/7, and the first real friend I had that wasn't picked out and vetted and primed for me was a Ugandan hacker a decade my senior." He looked up at James. James was sitting very still, sunglasses blocking his eyes. 

"I had no friends. I couldn't date anyone without having to submit them to a security check. Until this year, my final year, in uni, I couldn't even go to a bar without it having a sweep first. Even the bloody prince of England doesn't have such trouble meeting anyone at all! And then you. You -" Quillan choked a little. 

"Are you finished?" James said. 

Quillan glared, and tried to pull his foot free. 

"Because sex wasn't in the mission spec," James said, and his voice was... oddly gentle. Unbelievably gentle. "I was just supposed to get close to you. the attacker was supposed to have come through before the semester ended." 

"And then what, you panicked? When I graduated?" 

"Worse," James said. "They felt that the attack was bluster, and nothing more. I was supposed to leave, mission over. M had promised you a year free of interference. except." 

He hesitated. 

Quillan eyed him. "Go on." 

"I fell in love," James said, shrugging, like he said that sort of thing all the time. "It was ridiculous. Unpredictable. I am primarily heterosexual. And yet I ended up falling for you." His mouth quirked, just a little. "against mission spec, but then, I've always gone off it whenver I could, pissing off M no end." 

Love. 

_I love beautiful things._

Quillan stared at him. "Really?" 

"Yes," James said, and the honesty was - weirdly there, shining. Quillan knew he shouldn't believe him but - 

His phone chirped. 

He glanced down at it. 

_Is Bond there? Tell him he is suspended from duty, that was a completely unethical breach of moral conduct. He was never supposed to have touched you._

Between the lines, Quillan could read his grandmother's apology, protectiveness, and well. 

She was his grandmother. She was also M. She would always do what she thought best, for him. 

He grinned and stashed his phone. "Really really?" 

"Really," James said. 

And then he let go of Quillan's foot, so that Quillan could lurch over and plant himself into the man's lap. "She's going to be so mad," Quillan said. 

James' arms went around Quillan's waist. "I've made a speciality in pissing her off." 

And then kissed Quillan thoroughly.

 


End file.
